


Working Fantasies

by Mozzarella



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Fantasizing, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masturbation, Smut, Tattoos, Tumblr: pacrimsecretsanta, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Lust, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 01:19:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3362432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mozzarella/pseuds/Mozzarella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Hermann secretly thirst after/fantasizes about Newt (but is kind of terrified of the prospect of fantasy becoming reality)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Working Fantasies

**Author's Note:**

> I've been trying to finish this one since January, but it looks like two jobs, lack of inspiration and time, and general incompetence kind of kills the writing bit. I'm hoping having this as a chaptered fic will at least allow me to do rolling updates and help me get my shit together. Belated PacRim Secret Santa for henri-sibernetix on tumblr!

  
  


Contrary to popular belief, Hermann Gottlieb is a firm believer in a higher power—his own surname could attest to that. After all, man could aspire to greatness, but there were certain things in life that Hermann knew were beyond man—like numbers, and the mysterious workings of the know universe.

Which was why, at this very moment, Hermann was praying to God fervently for forgiveness as his gaze drifted across the room during a very important K-Science meeting to focus solely on Newton Geizsler—or rather, his arms, moving this way and that as he gesticulated wildly, explaining his theories and his out-there conclusions about Kaiju brain mass and its relation to thought processes.

Few knew about Hermann's weakness for tattoos. Fewer still knew about his weakness for Newton Geizsler. Vanessa had teased him to no end when he'd gotten into correspondence with the man, and practically fell in love with him over  _letters, for god's sake,_ and laughed right in his face when he came back from their first meeting both aggravated and aroused beyond belief.

Because Newton... oh, Newton.

He was appallingly careless, and talkative beyond belief with a broken brain-to-mouth filter, something Hermann hated in most human beings. Still, his genius was ever-present, the genius Hermann fell in love with when they were exchanging letters and still had a weakness for despite his annoyance when they were face-to-face. That genius made Hermann sit down quietly, eyes wide in wonder as he listened to the other man talk his head off with admittedly fascinating theories and discoveries about Kaiju that he'd gleaned from their remains.

And when Hermann spotted his tattoos... oh, that was the beginning of the end.

As much as he'd been trying to hide his attention, his gaze was noted when it landed on Newt's arms, and Newt lit right up and rolled up his sleeves, explaining each Kaiju that he'd had tattooed. Full colors, enormous and encompassing, Hermann was sure he'd never met anyone so thoroughly inked (not counting the model Vanessa worked with once, whose entire body had been done up to look like a skeleton—they never properly met, anyway). He never realized how... sexy it could be until he got an up close and personal look.

Hermann wondered for a long time if the tattoos were just on his arms, or extended all the way down to his back, and often caught himself tracing the lines and colors with his eyes when Newt wasn't looking, imagining running a hand down those arms and tracing the patterns with his fingers. He visualized the inks Newt most likely had, perhaps across the chest, perhaps down the back, with startling clarity, and licked his lips thinking about how Newt might grip his hand and guide his fingers across the beautifully-rendered faces of the Kaiju he'd dedicated his life to studying...

And entirely by accident, Hermann imagined Newt pulling him in to study the tattoos up close, close enough to press his nose against Newt's skin and mouth at his collar, his chest, his nipples—

“Herms! Hey, Hermann. You alright there, buddy?” 

Hermann snapped to attention, surprised to see that the others attending the meeting were already talking amongst each other, seemingly without noticing his entirely inappropriate zone-out, all but Newt, who'd come over with a concerned expression.

Unfortunately, with Hermann's sitting position, he was at a level to see Newt's half-buttoned dress shirt, the shape of a Kaiju peeking up off the top, right in front of his face. If he leant over just a little, he could press his mouth against it, like he did in the privacy of his own mind. Instead, he licked his lips and cleared his throat.

“Ehm, uh, err, yes. I'm sorry, Newton, I was just... I was thinking of something else,” he said, not entirely a lie. 

“Must be somethin' really important to make mister attentive zone out,” Newt said, nodding thoughtfully. “Or maybe my whole shtick on Kaiju brain matter was just boring to you,” he added lightly. 

“No, it was... you were quite...” Hermann cleared his throat. “Worth the attention.” 

Newt's brows shot right up to his hairline, and he opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Hermann took that as his cue to leave, making some excuse or other about needing to organize his things.

Locking himself in his room, Hermann decided that organizing anything was the least of his priorities as he kicked off his pants and dragged a hand over his turgid cock, licking his lips once more as the clear memory of Newt's open shirt and the scent of his skin so close pervaded his senses.

He imagined bare skin against inked bare skin, pressing the entire length of his body against Newt's, feeling every breath. He imagined getting his hands on a soft belly (which he'd brushed against often, the act itself casual but the tingle in his fingers far from) and squeezing, imagined kissing those sweet lips (often slack in open-mouthed disbelief or pulled wide in a contagious grin, or forming around words with the speed and enthusiasm of a true scientist) until they were red.

What he didn't imagine, however, was the knock on the door, which had him buttoning up his trousers with urgency and groping wildly for his jacket, which he held in one hand to hide his burgeoning erection.

“Heyyy, Hermann,” Newt greeted at the door. Hermann blinked at him, his brain not quite caught up with the situation of _the real Newton Geiszler standing in front of him,_ still hung over from the fantasy of Newt which had him absently licking his lips as he schooled his features into measured calm. “Oh, Newton. What is it? I'm quite... I'm... I was going to sleep,” he finished lamely. 

“Oh yeah? I thought you were gonna organize some files in your room,” Newt said, raising an eyebrow, an amused expression on his face. “Come on Hermann,” he said at length. “What's up? You seem really spaced out today. Especially with that meeting, you were kinda not all there. You feeling okay? Not sick or anything?” 

“It's nothing,” Hermann assured, taking a step or two back. “Really, Newton, thank you for your concern but I think I have to just—” He took one more step back—a miscalculation on his part as his foot caught on the uneven fold of the floor rug and had him toppling right back, head on a collision course with the floor. 

Newt reached out to stop him from falling, acting quickly, but the momentum had them both landing in a tangle of limbs and bruises on the metallic floor, barely softened by the rug that started it all. On the bright side, Hermann's head was alright. His back, not so much.

Not to mention his front, where Newton's body was pressed along the length of his own, pressing uncomfortably against where he'd been trying to will down arousal.

“Oh, god, oh man, are you okay? Shit, I wasn't thinking, but you were falling and I just acted on auto-pilot, I'm pretty sure I made things worse, oh—Hermann, I'm sorry, are you okay? God I'm such an idiot—”

Hermann cleared his throat loudly. “Newton,” he said, stopping the man in his tirade. “I'm fine,” he forced out. “I'd be better if you would get off, if you please,” he added, reddening at his own words and hoping Newt wouldn't notice.

It occurred to Hermann right then that Newt was not looking at his face—short-lived relief, when he realized where Newt was looking.

Lower than his face, of course. Much lower.

“...Did I interrupt something?” Newt said wryly, halfway to grinning at Hermann but interrupted by a shove, a startlingly strong one that made his elbow thump against the floor painfully.

“Get out,” Hermann said forcefully, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.

Newt was doing his best impression of a fish even as Hermann jostled him out of his room, difficult but doable with mismatched steps and a shocked Newt trying to get his bearings back. Fortunately for Hermann, he didn't have time to process the action before the door was slammed behind Newt's back, and Hermann sighed in exhaustion, leaning against the wood until he slid down.

Shameful. That was... absolutely shameful.

And more so the fact that the encounter did nothing to kill his erection.

 

 


End file.
